“Mouse,” he groaned, his voice dropping so deep it was almost unrecognizable. He tried to ease her back off his cock.
Fighting his hold, she pushed forward until her nose pushed against his belly. She held herself there until she had to breathe or pass out. She eased back just enough for the air to flow into her lungs again. When his fingers tightened, she gently closed her jaw until her teeth pressed into his shaft.
The pressure on her skull eased. “You do realize you’re earning yourself another punishment, don’t you?” he said through gritted teeth.
Whitney pulled back, her hand wrapping around the base of his length. She let him go and looked up at him with a small smile as her hand traveled from base to head and back again.
“I just want you to feel as good, as relaxed, as I do,” she said before taking him back into her mouth. Her gaze dropped to his chest.
“Look in my eyes when you suck my cock, mouse.”
Whitney looked up again, meeting his half closed emerald eyes. Seeing his pleasure, she got serious. With mouth and tongue working in combination, she took in as much of his length as she could, savoring the dark flavor of sex on his skin. Easing his leathers down another few inches, she gently cupped his balls. The added stimulus carried Sir quickly to his peak.
“Gonna come, oh, shit,” he groaned right before the first shot of semen pulsed across her tongue.
Whitney swallowed down all he gave her before cleaning him thoroughly. Then she held him in gently, not stimulating, just enjoying the feeling of his softening shaft against her tongue. Finally, she kissed his crown, tucked him away, and did up his leathers again. Shifting back, she knelt before him, her face lowered to the floor.
“Forgive me, Sir, for sucking your cock without permission. I just wanted you to know that, as crazy as it may sound since we don’t know each other, I care about you. I’ll accept any punishment you deem appropriate.”
* * * *
Taurus said nothing. He couldn’t. His body was so relaxed he was having a hard time staying upright. All he wanted was to lie down with his mouse and sleep for the next twelve hours or so.
He couldn’t even be angry that she’d gone against his orders, which was something no other sub dared. Especially not one so new to Domination and submission. In his experience, new subs either did exactly as they were told or balked and fought every order. He’d never before dealt with a sub who was so concerned about fairness. He wanted to punish her, but the blowjob had stripped him of months of tension. He was too relaxed to work up a good mad at her disobedience.
Yep, Whitney Elliott was going to be trouble.
Swallowing to ease the sudden dryness in his mouth, he cleared his throat before saying, “Go clean up and put on your teddy.”
* * * *
Whitney knew not to argue. She had pushed him too far already by giving him the blowjob. Rising from the floor, she retrieved her teddy and slipped into the bathroom. Five minutes later, she emerged again, having wiped down with a wet cloth and redressed.
Sir waited for her by the door. He took her hands in one of his. His other lifted her chin until she was forced to look into his eyes.
“Before you return to Esoteria, you will think about the truth of your nature. You are as submissive as they come, though we will have to work on that streak you have that needs to make all things fair.”
She dropped her gaze, but when he tightened his grip on her chin, she raised it to look into glowing green eyes.
“Also, you will do three things. You will be tested for STDs. You will get your pretty pussy waxed bare, and you will e-mail me the article you are writing about the club. If you need help with any of these, ask.”
“That’s censorship,” she protested. How did he know she was a reporter? She hadn’t told him what she did for a living.
“No, that’s protecting my club and its members.” Opening the door, Sir led her from the play room.
They didn’t speak again as he led her through the club to the front entrance. He nodded to the young man standing guard over the shelves filled with baskets of clothes. A moment later, the man placed the basket holding her clothes on the counter.
Looking down at her, he nodded. She picked up her clothes and followed as he walked to a corner. While he blocked the other men’s views, she quickly dressed, her face burning once again as he smiled, seeming to enjoy the reverse strip tease.
Once she finished, he walked her to the front door where another large, muscular Dom waited. “Deke, would you walk Whitney back to her car?”
“Sure thing, T.”
Whitney turned to look at him one last time. Should she thank him? Or ask the new list of questions that cluttered up her thoughts?
Before she could do either, Sir kissed her cheek. “Good night, little mouse,” he whispered in her ear. “Also, when you come back, I want that butt plug in place. Do you understand?”
“Tested, waxed, article, plug. Anything else?” she whispered, her cheeks burning again.
“No panties. Bras only when you are at work. If I think of anything else, I’ll let you know.” After one last kiss to her forehead, Sir walked back into the club without a backward glance.
Chapter 5
“Where the hell have you been? You were supposed to be home hours ago.” Janelle Elliott jerked the door open as Whitney aimed her key at the front door lock.
Whitney jumped, then looked around, realizing how late, or rather how early, it was. The eastern sky was growing bright, but the sun had yet to break the horizon.
“Sorry, Mom. I lost track of time.”
Her mother frowned at her, then leaned forward and sniffed at her. “You haven’t been drinking and you don’t smell like sex. Where were you?”
Janelle Elliott was a tall, lean woman with hair as black as her daughter’s except for a triangular patch of silver at each temple. Her perpetually disapproving expression darkened and her frown lines deepened as she waited for an answer.
Whitney tried to find a reassuring smile to offer, but found none. She was too tired and too relaxed to deal with the stress of her mother. “I was working. I got caught up in what I was doing and didn’t want to stop until I’d finished.” As close to the truth as she could get without a gun aimed at her head. She tried to keep her tone civil, but it came out sharper than normal. Stepping past her mother into the foyer she threw out, “If you’ll excuse me, I’m going to bed. It’s been a long night.”
After leaving Esoteria just after midnight, she meant to head straight home but knew she would never be able to sleep. Instead, she drove aimlessly, ending up in Union Point Park. After parking the car under a street lamp, she climbed out and headed for the water that bordered the small park on two sides.
She needed to be alone and away from her mother’s angry influence. She needed to think about the evening’s events and how the education she received would change her future.
She headed straight for “her bench.” This was the bench she been coming to since she was old enough to drive and needed to think without distraction. She hissed as her full weight hit the wooden bench. Her sore ass protested the thoughtless treatment sharply. Staring out across the dark waters where the Trent River flowed into the Neuse River always gave her peace. At that moment, she needed to feel contentment more than she needed rest. As she sat there, alone in the dark with only the water and the streetlights for company, she replayed the evening. As she did, her body heated up once more.
Sir turned her on more than any other man she’d ever spent time with. The spanking he administered hurt, but she deserved it. The fact that he followed the punishment with praise and then brought her to her first ever screaming orgasm sent renewed shivers of lust and want through her.
To keep from playing with herself in public even though she was alone, Whitney pulled the notebook and pen from her pocket. Opening it to the first clean page, she jotted down her to-do list. Get tested, get waxed bare, don’t wear underwear, write an article and se
nd him a copy. Once she finished, she flipped to the next page and began to write
She filled the pages with her thoughts of the evening, impressions of the club and its owner as well as questions she might need answered for the article. When she finished, she couldn’t wait to go home and type them up.
She would also need to talk to the director of the shelter and maybe ask Taurus if he could arrange for her to speak with one or two of the submissives who were auctioned. With a little cooperation from Taurus and hard work on her part, she could have the story ready in a couple of days.
The other tasks would take longer, but hopefully she would get everything accomplished within the week. She hoped so because she couldn’t wait to see Sir again. She was already horny and didn’t know if she’d be able to last a week without getting herself off, but she also didn’t think she’d be able to e-mail him and ask for permission. Another catch-22.
With her thoughts settled, Whitney stood and stretched, feeling weary and horny and wishing she could go back to the club and Sir’s arms instead of home and her mother.
Her attention jerked back to the present when her mother grabbed her wrist. “No, young lady, I will not excuse you. Where have you been? I called your cell phone and your office phone and got voice mail. I want to know where you’ve been and what you’ve been doing. You live under my roof, and I expect you to abide by my rules as you’ve always done. If you’re going to be out at night, you call and let me know where you are and who you’re with.”
For a second, Whitney felt remorse for her action. She dropped her head in submission, even opened her mouth to tell her mother a moment by moment account of her evening. The fact that she’d been in a sex club and met a man who not only saw her naked but also fingered her to orgasm would no doubt shock the woman into spending the next month on her knees in prayer.
Before she spoke, Taurus’s words rang in her ears. “No one has the right to make you think bad of yourself.”
“Mom, if I told you where I was you wouldn’t believe me, so let’s just drop it. I was working out of the office. I did not have my cell phone on me. I’m tired, and I’m going to bed.”
She kept her voice low and controlled as she looked her mother straight in the eye, which was something she had never done before. She gently eased her arm free from her mother’s hold and stepped back, never looking away. She could be strong and in charge for this minute. Her mother would not make her feel bad about what she’d done.
By continuing to look into her mother’s eyes, she saw them widen in surprise, then narrow in suspicion. Then she saw something she thought she would never see from her parent, respect.
“Next time call and let me know you’re not coming home. I was worried.”
“I’ll try to remember that.” Not really. “Enjoy church this morning.” Whitney turned and headed up the stairs.
She kept her back straight, her shoulders back, and her head up. For the first time since she was a teenager, she felt buoyant instead of depressed after a confrontation. Would her mother think her crazy if she began to dance a happy jig? Probably. It wasn’t until she was in her room with the door closed and locked that true reaction set in. She began to shake.
“Thank you, Sir,” she murmured as she pulled off her clothes and climbed under the covers naked, another new experience.
She closed her eyes and allowed herself to feel the percale sheets against her skin. Rolling around to find a comfortable position, she sighed at the brush of cloth on skin. Though she expected to fall asleep immediately, she couldn’t. Her mind was still caught up in thoughts of Sir and subs and the slave auction.
Finally, she gave up and climbed from the bed. Instead of dressing, she pulled on an oversized denim shirt that hung from the post on the foot board. She liked to wear it as an extra layer over T-shirts around the house. For now, it was just enough to keep her from feeling chilled and too exposed as she settled at her desk. It would also allow her to play if she decided she was brave enough to do so.
After booting up her computer, Whitney first checked her e-mail, personal and then work. She was surprised to see one from Master T in her work box with the subject line “Saturday night.”
Her free hand slid between her thighs to play as she deleted the junk and read through the three other messages that were pertinent for work. Her thoughts were still filled with Sir and the incredible orgasm he’d given her. The other messages weren’t important. Two pertained to a change of time for a meeting she didn’t need to attend, and the third was information about an obit she would write up Monday morning.
Clicking to open the e-mail from Sir she read it, then sat back and huffed in frustration as she pulled her fingers from where they toyed with her clit and built her lust again.
Mouse, I forgot to mention no orgasms without permission. You may e-mail me or call the club and I’ll get back with you as soon as I can. I look forward to our next meeting. Sir.
Checking the header, she noticed the note had been sent a mere twenty minutes after she’d left the club. Clicking the response button, she typed two quick words—“Yes, Sir”—before hitting the send button. Then she wrote down his e-mail address so her next contact would be from her personal e-mail and not from work.
Once the mail was dealt with, she did a quick search for beauty salons that offered body waxing and jotted down the name and phone number of the one she felt most comfortable visiting for such a personal service. She researched sexual disease testing and found that she could get tested at the local walk-in clinic where a good friend from high school worked.
She’d worry later about what she was going to wear on her next visit to Club Esoteria. Nothing hanging in her closet was appropriate to cover her without looking like she had tonight. She didn’t want to embarrass Sir by showing up overdressed again.
Opening her word processing program, she began typing, trying to clear her mind of all the thoughts and questions she had. She formatted it like an article but left large blanks with notes about quotes needed and questions about the club, the auction, and of whom she might interview to fill out the story. By the time she saved the article, exhaustion weighed on her like a boulder.
Before she gave in to it, she sent Sir a copy of the article, holes and all. After closing down the computer she pushed away from her desk. Dropping the shirt to the floor, she crawled back into bed and was asleep almost before the covers settled.
* * * *
Late Monday morning, Sir responded to her article with a list of three names and phone numbers. When she contacted them that evening, each of Sir’s contacts willingly answered her questions about the auction and BDSM, but refused to answer questions about Club Esoteria and Master T. It took several phone calls to catch up with the director of the battered women’s shelter. Finally, though, she connected, and the woman enthusiastically praised the sizable donation they received for their repairs, but declined to confirm that it came from Esoteria.
Just after seven o’clock that evening her cell phone rang. She didn’t recognize the number, but something compelled her to answer. She wasn’t doing anything except watching her mother’s favorite crime show reruns anyway.
“Hello?” she asked, walking out of the living room and up the stairs to her room.
“Hello, Whitney. How are you this evening?”
“Sir?”
“We’re not in the club. Call me Taurus.” He sounded amused and yet tired.
“Is everything all right?” she asked, locking herself in her bedroom.
“All is well. I just wanted to hear your voice, talk to you, get to know you better. I have to go to work in a bit.”
Whitney frowned. He wanted to talk to her, get to know her better. “Is this like a phone date or something?”
“Or something, I think. Tell me about yourself, your likes, dislikes. Do you have pets? Want pets? Like your life so far? If you could change anything about yourself, what it would it be? What’s your favorite ice cream?”
/> The questions came so fast that Whitney couldn’t answer them all, but found herself responding to the playfulness she heard in his voice. Two hours passed as they shared all sorts of bits of information about themselves. From her experience with other men, this had been better than most of her other first dates.
“I have to head downstairs now,” Taurus said just as her phone beeped in her ear signifying that her battery was about to die. “May I call you tomorrow evening?”
“I’d like that,” she responded with a smile. Talking about everything except sex, their jobs, and the club had been fun.
“Tomorrow evening, then. Good night, sweet Whitney.”
“Good night, Taurus.”
* * * *
Tuesday afternoon she e-mailed the completed article to Sir. It wasn’t the in-depth exposé on the New Bern sex slave market she’d wanted, but it was a solid article just the same. He responded twenty minutes later with a message reading simply “Go for it,” but she held off submitting it to the editor.
That evening they talked about childhood memories and favorites. The conversation flowed easily and freely, bouncing from one subject to the next without any rhyme or reason. When she hung up, she realized she now knew more about Taurus in a few days than she had her last two boyfriends whom she’d dated for months.
The e-mail she sent Wednesday afternoon contained a scanned copy of the doctor’s report stating she was healthy and free of disease.
That night they talked again, not about anything inconsequential, but their conversation was just as informative as straight questions and answers. They found they had the same tastes in many things, from crime-solving television shows and intelligent movies to classic black and white movies. The both liked to read mystery novels, though Whitney admitted she read the last chapter first so she could see how the story built up to the ending.
Each night when she hung up, Whitney found herself smiling and felt more connected to Taurus than she had to any other man in her life. She also trusted him with secrets she never told anyone before. She wasn’t sure if it was because of the semi-impersonal nature of talking on the phone or the little thread of steel that entered his voice whenever he knew she wasn’t telling him the truth.
Caught by the Master Page 4